


A Gift from the Gods

by NotMyBestIdea



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Sterek Secret Santa, Winter Solstice, Yule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 07:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17178680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotMyBestIdea/pseuds/NotMyBestIdea
Summary: It's the winter solstice and Stiles is going to meet his soulmate.Hopefully.





	A Gift from the Gods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zjofierose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/gifts).



> In this AU, magic is a thing, and I've made paganism and Christianity the dominant religions in the U.S. (but only the paganism - my hodgepodge made-up version of it - is making an appearance in this fic)

The day of the winter solstice, Stiles woke before dawn. He had a lot to do before the sun set that night and the holiday officially began.

Normally, he wouldn’t use candles to light the room - why would he, when he could do it much more easily with the flip of a switch? - but it was traditional and he wanted his request to be looked upon favorably. Showing respect for the gods and their ways couldn’t hurt. And if the gods weren’t as involved in people’s lives as the druid priests believed (if they didn’t even exist, not that he’d say that out loud), following the old traditions might subconsciously encourage his spark to create the opportunity he was seeking. It didn’t really matter if it was the gods granting his request or if it was a case of him literally being the change he wanted to see in the world, as long as it worked.

Stiles was going to meet his soulmate.

Hopefully.

It had been a long time since Stiles and his father had done more than the most basic observance of either of the solstices - not since his mother had died. He wanted to do this right. First, the purification ritual. It was the one of the easiest rituals, involving nudity, cold water (so cold, it was still winter even if he was in California, why?), and a handful of herbs tossed in a fire, but it had to take place at dawn. Considering that he was allowed to go about his daily business without restriction afterward made him think it was just supposed to be a bath. The gods probably didn’t like doing favors for stinky people.

Once he’d dried off and put on his nice warm clothes (all natural fibers, which maybe wasn’t absolutely necessary, according to the High Druid, but it couldn’t hurt, right?), he ate a hearty breakfast and set to cleaning and then decorating the house with the boughs of evergreen and holly he and his dad had cut the day before. Stiles had even attempted to make a wreath, but he’d never gotten the knack of it and his efforts were a dismal failure. He had ended up trading the promise of one of his Yule log cakes for one of Erica’s lovely handmade wreaths, which he now hung carefully on the front door.

Next, the fireplace. Since California winters tended to be mild and central heating was a thing that existed, the fireplace was mostly ceremonial; they only used it to burn the Yule log each year. Stiles had arranged for the chimney to be checked earlier in the week, and now he made sure the grate was as clean as he could get it. Later, when the Yule log was delivered, he would fetch the piece from last year’s log to start this year’s fire.

Stiles checked the time. Despite the hours and hours (okay, only a few) he had spent performing his tasks, it was still too early to run his most important errand of the day. Scott probably wouldn’t kill him if he showed up this early, but Stiles wasn’t as certain about Allison. She’d been having trouble sleeping lately and if Stiles disturbed her much-needed rest… better not to take the chance.

He wasn’t going anywhere yet, so he decided to get started on his baking. Aside from the cake for Erica, he’d also promised to make one for Scott and Allison, and there was no way he was going to make two cakes and not have any for him and his dad. Baking three cakes when he only had one pan took time, as did the whole cooling, filling, and rolling process. He had made the meringue mushrooms the day before, because they took forever to make, but it wasn’t a proper Yule log cake without the damn things and there was no way he was skipping them. That part didn’t have anything to do with trying to find his soulmate - Stiles had a Yule log cake reputation to uphold.

By the time he was done icing them (ganache for Scott and Allison, chocolate ‘bark’ pieces for the other two), it was well past lunch and Stiles needed to get out of the house. He wasn’t in danger of forgetting his most important errand, but he was seized by the sudden certainty that if he didn’t take care of it right now, it wasn’t going to happen. He took enough time to box up two of the cakes and put on his coat, then he was out the door.

He very carefully did not speed over to Scott and Allison’s place, but he still managed to get there in record time. He stood on their porch, cake box in hand, and rang the doorbell. As soon as he heard footsteps approaching, he pasted his widest smile on his face, the one Scott said was ‘creepy’ and Allison said made him ‘look like a serial killer’.

The door opened. “Hey-” Scott began, then he flinched and groaned. “Gods, Stiles, why do you do that every time? Get in here.”

Stiles laughed and stepped inside. “I’ll stop when it isn’t funny anymore. Brought your cake, man,” he said, brandishing the box.

“Awesome!” Scott took it from him and they went to the kitchen, where Allison was slumped at the kitchen table, her head propped on her hand.

“Hi Stiles,” she said with a yawn.

“Hey, just woke up?”

“About to take a nap actually. Apparently I need one every three hours now.”

“Growing a person is hard on the body, or so I’ve heard,” Stiles agreed. “How’s that going, by the way?” He waved a hand in the general direction of Allison’s still-slender waist.

“Just fine,” she said patiently.

“Stiles brought our cake,” Scott told her.

Allison smiled, her dimples in full force. “Thank you. Now all we need is the real Yule log and we’ll have everything we need for tonight.”

“Yeah, same,” Stiles agreed. “Once I get one other thing.” He stared at Allison significantly.

“Oh?”

Stiles wasn’t buying Allison’s oh-so-innocent act. Although her ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about’ face was really good. Maybe she had forgotten? Pregnancy brain was a thing, Stiles had read about it.

Allison burst out laughing. “Your face, Stiles, oh my god. It’s in the living room.” She got up and walked out of the kitchen, Stiles following after her like a puppy. There, in a wicker basket on the coffee table, was an abundance of mistletoe. More than Stiles needed, really.

“Did you get some for yourselves? Although it’s not like you guys really need it.”

Mistletoe, when cut down by druid priests and gathered by unmarried young women, was good for fertility, among other things. When it was gathered by married women, it was useful for revealing what was hidden, like someone’s soulmate, for instance. Scott and Allison had both of those things covered.

“Deaton thought you might want extra, just to be sure,” Scott said behind him.

“Oh, ha ha.” It was a joke, probably. Deaton, the High Druid, had a dry sense of humor, but maybe also not the highest opinion of Stiles’ abilities with magic.

“We have some hanging up for luck,” Allison said. “We got it from the Hales.”

“Hmm,” Stiles answered absently, already thinking of all the places he could hang the mistletoe. Having more than he needed couldn’t hurt.

“They’re bringing our Yule log later. They’re in an extra giving mood this year. Are you getting yours from them too?”

“The Yule log is Dad’s responsibility.” Stiles picked up the basket. “Okay, thanks for getting this for me, Allie.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ve gotta go. See ya.”

“I see how it is. You got what you wanted and now you’re just going to leave,” Scott said with a grin.

“Hey, I brought cake. Anyway Scotty, you know you’re my BFFL five-ever.” He went over and kissed Scott on the cheek too. “And I really do have to go. Happy solstice! Enjoy your nap!”

His next stop was Erica’s house, well, Erica’s parents’ house. Erica was what the local gossips were calling a late bloomer. It had taken years for Deaton and Erica’s doctors to come up with the right mix of magic and medicine to treat her seizures. She was making up for lost time now, going out and having fun, or at least trying to. Her parents were still treating her like she was sick, and Erica didn’t want to burn any bridges in her push for independence. If Stiles had to guess, she was afraid the treatment would stop working and she’d be back at square one, only without their support. Not that it was any of Stiles’ business.

There was a pickup idling in front of Erica’s house - one of the Hale’s many vehicles. Stiles didn’t recognize the man in the driver’s seat - judging by his dark hair and supernatural hotness, he was most likely a Hale, the best looking member of that family Stiles had ever seen, and that was saying something.

Boyd was practically hanging out of the open passenger-side window, talking to Erica. Stiles got out of his jeep with Erica’s cake, hanging back while they flirted. He wouldn’t interrupt them for the world. Not only would Erica kill him, but Boyd would give him the Look, and Stiles would like to avoid both of those things, especially today. He waited forever, until the Hale Hottie finally said something and Erica and Boyd made their goodbyes.

As they drove away, the driver’s eyes met Stiles’ and the world stopped. But the truck kept moving and the moment passed. Stiles shook his head to clear it. Now wasn’t the time to lose his head over a pretty (who was he kidding, gorgeous) face. Soulmate, he reminded himself, so much better than mere good looks (astronomical hotness).

“That better be my cake,” Erica said, her hands on her hips and a smirk on her lips.

Stiles held the cake box out on one hand and bowed with a little flourish. “As you requested.”

Erica laughed and took the box from him. “It better be the best cake I’ve ever tasted.”

Stiles clutched his chest and gasped. “You doubt my baking powers?” he demanded and she shrugged. It had probably been years since she’d had cake because of the special diet she’d had to follow. Either no cake could live up to the memories she had built up, or this cake was going to blow her mind.

They wandered over to her front porch and sat on the steps.

“Excited to meet your soulmate?” she asked quietly.

“ _Maybe_ I’ll meet my soulmate,” he said automatically, then sighed. “More nervous than excited.”

Erica nudged him gently with her elbow. “It’s going to be awesome. It’s your _soulmate_.”

“Soulmates aren’t sure things,” he reminded her and oh shit, what was he thinking? Meeting his soulmate didn’t mean they’d end up together forever (or at all), just that the possibility for forever was there. He was probably just wasting his time. “Not many people lining up to get with all this.” He waved his hand at himself.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, or I’ll show up at your door tonight and make myself your soulmate.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“I’ll make it work that way if you don’t knock it off. And then I’ll spend the rest of our lives making you regret this low self-esteem bullshit.”

“You won’t do it. You don’t really want to be my soulmate.” He grinned suddenly. “I think you have someone else in mind for that role. You were looking pretty cozy with Boyd just now.”

“I’m awesome enough for two soulmates.” Erica tossed her hair over her shoulder and lifted her chin.

“Yeah, you are.” They sat together in silence for a while. Stiles stared at Roscoe, thinking about what he had left to do… which was surprisingly little. He just had to put up the mistletoe, and then he could make his request. “Hey, you want some soulmate-finding mistletoe?” he asked Erica. “I’ve got enough in my jeep for half the town.”

She thought about it. “Nah,” she said eventually. “I need some time to find out who healthy me is before I find my soulmate.”

Stiles wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a sideways hug. “I can already tell healthy you is awesome.”

“Of course. Now go away so I can drool over my cake in peace.”

Stiles pretended to gag, then took his leave.

His stomach was in knots all during the drive home. It was almost time. Despite his doubts, he was still going to make his request. He wanted this; he was ready.

As soon as he was inside, he hung the mistletoe in all of the traditional places - and a few non-traditional ones. He didn’t need to wait for the solstice to officially begin, so as soon as the last sprig was in place, he went to the small altar he’d set up by the living room window and began.

There was no official ritual for the request. In fact, Deaton had been more unhelpful than usual. ‘Just ask in whatever way feels right to you. The gods will answer or not according to their will.’ Well, Stiles was going to take him at his word and do it his way. He lit two beeswax candles and set a single flower on the altar between them. Then, he silently asked the gods to send his soulmate to him, because he would have felt stupid asking out loud.

The candle flames flickered, but that was it. Stiles sighed and looked around the living room. A wave of exhaustion swept over him. It had been a long day, and it wasn’t quite over. He went over to the couch and flopped down on it. He had time for a short nap before he had to do anything else. And it wasn’t like he was expecting his soulmate to appear right there in his living room. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Low voices woke him some time later. He sat up, blinking sleepily at his dad standing in the doorway. “Hey,” he said and yawned hugely.

“Stiles, the house is looking very green.” His dad turned and said to someone behind him, “The fireplace is in here.”

“Yule log?” Stiles guessed. He stood up as his dad entered the room, followed by the handsome unknown Hale he’d seen earlier at Erica’s.

Their eyes met and the world stopped for a second. Again. “Uh,” Stiles said intelligently.

“Derek, this is my son, Stiles,” his dad said. “Stiles, this is Derek Hale.”

Stiles froze for a completely different reason this time. Everyone knew about Derek Hale. He’d been gone for almost ten years, for very understandable reasons, and the sure bet was he’d be gone for another ten before he set foot in Beacon Hills again. And now here he was in Stiles’ living room, holding a Yule log.

“The fireplace is over here,” his dad said mildly, and Derek looked away, releasing Stiles from his almost hypnotic gaze.

One the Yule log was settled in the grate, an awkward silence descended. For once, Stiles struggled to say something, anything. He wanted Derek to stay, get to know him, but if he opened his mouth, he’d probably drive Derek away with inappropriate questions or just plain weirdness.

“I’ll just go get the piece of the Yule log from last year and we’ll get this thing lit,” his dad said. “That alright with you, Stiles?”

“Yeah, sounds great, Dad. It should be under your bed, right where we left it.”

His dad just shook his head and left the room, leaving Stiles and Derek to the silence.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Stiles blurted almost without meaning to. “Sorry. I meant to say that earlier. I just woke up.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Derek said. He looked around the room. “It looks like you’re ready for the solstice.”

Stiles followed his gaze and grimaced at the overabundance of mistletoe. “Uh, yeah. I’m uh… It’s for a ritual? I asked the gods for a favor.”

Derek nodded, but he looked confused.

“Soulmate.” Stiles’ words came without his permission. “I’m trying to find my soulmate.”

Derek stared at him, then, unbelievably, stepped toward him. “Can I tell you a secret?” he said, almost shyly.

Stiles nodded dumbly.

“I’m looking for my soulmate too. That’s why I came back to Beacon Hills.” He looked at Stiles expectantly.

“Oh.” A thought, one he had been ruthlessly suppressing every since Derek had walked into the room, popped into his head. Was Derek…

He held out his hand, waiting to see if Derek would take it. This was probably nothing, just a coincidence. There was no way Derek was his soulmate.

Derek looked down at Stiles’ hand, then back up with a nervous smile. He took another step forward and reached out.

The moment their palms met, tiny sparks began to dance along their skin and the world felt suddenly _right_ in a way Stiles had never experienced before in his life. He grinned. Derek smiled back, his eyes wide with wonder.

“Hello, soulmate.”

**Author's Note:**

> I did a little research into Yule and winter solstice celebrations, but this is a fictionalized version of pagan or Druidic traditions, with a few things I have made up entirely.


End file.
